Heartwood
by mmmslash
Summary: Valentine's Day brings pressures for everyone, including Takuto and Kouji.


They are lounging on Kouji's bed when the topic comes up.

Kouji has a chemistry book open on his lap and Takuto's sketchbook lies supine on his bent knees, his body curved over his work. It bothers Kouji a bit that Takuto never shares his art, but Kouji's learned not to pry. They are quiet and comfortable like this.

Still, the topic comes up despite their cozy repose.

"I hear Keita and Kazuki did it," Takuto says softly, his eyes turned down on the sketchbook.

Kouji raises his eyebrows without meaning to and Takuto blushes.

"No, not that," he says, stumbling over the words, "well, maybe. Probably. But, the tree. Their names."

Kouji smiles at his lover's discomfort. Takuto is always so careful around him and Kouji is deeply amused by the prospect of Takuto discovering all of the filthy thoughts going through his head. Maybe he'll confess to them someday.

But today, all he says is, "Ahh."

They'd never properly discussed the old tree out at the back of the school grounds and Kouji finds this an egregious error. He understands it, though; they rarely discuss their relationship directly at all. Even its conception came with no discussion. What was to be discussed when Takuto grabbed his hakama and pulled him into a kiss that tasted of cherries and charcoal dust? Kouji often found that words got in the way anyhow, and his tongue certainly had better things to be doing then.

They never did discuss that first kiss, or the second. They never discussed their first date out to the pier; they simply went. The first time they made love, the language of discarded clothing and sweat-slick hands sliding down flesh was too melodious to interrupt with crude verbalizations.

But perhaps, Kouji mused, they should discuss this. It is, after all, Bell Liberty tradition. Something of a commitment is made with the carving of lovers' names into the trunk of the ancient tree (never mind that Niwa's name is engraved more than twice into the gnarled bark). But the idea of being so showy doesn't sit well with Kouji. He's pretty sure that Takuto feels the same way. It isn't like they're hiding anything--there are few secrets at Bell Liberty and it seemed futile even at first to hide their relationship. So, it isn't out of a desire for secrecy that he's never brought up the idea of carving their names. It's just...such an extravagant thing to do. He loves Takuto. Deeply. Committedly. Just...not so loudly.

But Takuto brought it up on his own. What if he really wants this? Kouji could never say no to that. And besides, Valentine's Day is only two days away--it would be a romantic way to mark the occasion. Kouji clears his throat.

"You know," he says, "we could--"

Takuto scoffs softly. "Don't be silly," he interrupts, "we don't need that."

Kouji opens his mouth to say something, anything, to cover up his embarrassment. But he closes it again quickly when he discovers that he is a little hurt by Takuto's denial. Why wouldn't he want their names carved into the tree?

But Takuto rests a hand on Kouji's knee and smiles. "Don't worry about it," he says, so Kouji grudgingly gives in by tugging Takuto down on top of him and kissing him silent and agreeable.

center/center

It's the next day when Kouji starts to become especially worried.

In first hour, Naruse is pouting fiercely and bemoaning to Shuunsuke the loss of his "honey." Shuunsuke is sitting beside his desk, straddling his bike, and trying to be sympathetic. It is clear that he doesn't really understand--"Isn't it sweet, though?" he asks and Naruse erupts into a tortured wail--but he's trying, one hand petting Naruse's head gently.

It's a pathetic sight, really, but Kouji can't help but feel the weight of it. Perhaps this tree thing is an even bigger deal than he'd been anticipating! But Shuunsuke looks at him woefully as if he is asking for help in consoling Naruse, and Kouji quickly takes a seat on the opposite side of the room.

In second hour, Kaoru and Omi are discussing the carving in very serious tones that command attention despite the low voices they are using.

"It's about time," Omi says with a soft smile that closes his eyes.

"Mm," says Kaoru and the room ices over. Kouji shivers--ihow does he do that?/i It is a brief but meaningful exchange: they approve...and they approve of very little.

In third hour, even Niwa is taking it seriously. He gives Keita a hearty pat on the back and shakes Kazuki's hand. Kouji is becoming progressively less amused with the whole thing, and is beginning to hate Keita and Kazuki just a little because of all this attention. And he's not like that--he's the calm one, the dignified one. It's why he's such a good match with calm, dignified Takuto. They are both able to find joy in the joy of others. He is not petty and envious--he is inot./i

But at lunch, it gets worse. He and Takuto share a table with Keita and Kazuki--who happily share all of the details.

"It was great!" Keita says, almost breathless, "we went up to this branch that's all curvy and he carved our names there and then we--"

He stops there and blushes fiercely. Kazuki just smiles smugly and ruffles Keita's hair. Kouji says nothing, but Takuto smiles and says, "How romantic." It makes Kouji silently frustrated.

Why isn't he allowed to be romantic, too? True, he'd been resistant before, but now it is almost a compulsion. Maybe Takuto says he doesn't want it, but what could it hurt? And, Kouji reasons, he may change his mind once they are actually out there.

It is something necessary now--almost the only way that Kouji can imagine to express his deep affection for Takuto. And he knows that Takuto is only trying to dissuade him because he doesn't want Kouji's feelings hurt. But they are, regardless. And he knows that it's his own fault. Maybe he should have done this sooner--sooner and without being prompted into it. He should have known that his lover would want this outward symbol of commitment, despite the years of partnership behind them.

Kouji nods firmly to himself: It is decided--he will take Takuto out to the tree at lunch the next day.

center/center

But Takuto must be on to his plan, Kouji realizes.

When he knocks on his lover's door for lunch, Takuto claims that he has an art project that just can't wait. He says it's important and politely shuts the door. Kouji finds this maddening.

Why is Takuto being so stubborn about this? Kouji is tempted to say that it is such a small thing to ask--then he realizes that it is no small thing at all. If it was a small thing, then he wouldn't be making such a big deal of it himself. If that carving really didn't says so much more than the simple words it contained, then he wouldn't be so fixated on it.

And that is just it--it iis/i a big deal. And he doesn't want to force anyone, but it would be nice. It would be nice to...well, to have something in writing. Which makes him feel unromantic enough to negate the whole process.

He's a little devastated by the exchange. He didn't realize that Takuto was so angry about everything, angry enough to discourage contact between them. Kouji sinks down his dorm room wall and rests his elbows on his knees. He supposes that maybe something would have been different if he'd been more vocally affectionate earlier; maybe if he'd been clearer, Takuto wouldn't have felt like the tree thing was so important.

"Romantic," he'd called it--yet he'd brushed off Kouji's attempts at making it happen. Now he ditches him for lunch. It isn't like Takuto to be so passive aggressive. Especially with Kouji. He doesn't like to see his lover being so upset and disappointed.

Kouji falls asleep with his head on his knees only to be awakened by Takuto slipping quietly through the door.

"I'm sorry," he says and kneels beside Kouji, "did I wake you?"

And Takuto is so beautiful and gentle there in front of him; Kouji gathers him into his arms.

"Yes," he says, nuzzling his nose into the warm curve of Takuto's neck, "thank you."

He feels Takuto's laugh against his temple and his fingers stroking his hair. It is habit to relax into Takuto's touch.

"What are you being so strange for," Takuto asks, breath warm in Kouji's hair.

"I've missed you," he says and pulls Takuto into his lap, "how is your project?"

He feels Takuto's tense back muscles loosen as he presses against them with his thumbs. Takuto moans softly, resting his chin atop Kouji's head.

"Good," he says and tightens his legs around Kouji's back.

"Not a chance you'll tell me what it is?"

Takuto smiles at him and begins to unbutton his shirt. "Not a chance."

Kouji presses his lips against Takuto's throat, feels his lover swallow. "Such a pity," he mutters and leans back to let Takuto undo his belt.

"Mm, perhaps," Takuto whispers and pushes Kouji's shirt from his shoulders.

Kouji watches him, takes in the gentle smile and the flushed cheeks. He doesn't seem angry now--perhaps, he thinks, he can still make good on the tree opportunity.

"I was thinking," he says as Takuto stands to remove his own belt, "that maybe we could eat lunch together tomorrow."

Takuto tosses his belt aside and starts to work on his shirt buttons. "Sure," he says, "I should be done with my project by then."

Kouji watches Takuto's shirt fall to the ground in a graceless heap. "I thought," he says, and takes in the gentle curves of muscles around Takuto's arms, "that maybe we could go to the tree tomorrow."

He looks up with hopeful eyes and raised brows. Takuto stares at him for a moment, unblinking, then his shoulders slump with a deep sigh. "Kouji," he says, "let this go."

Kouji stands and feels his pants slide down low on his hips. "Why? Why can't we do this?"

The bedsprings creak as Takuto lowers himself onto the mattress.

"Why is this so important to you," he asks and rests one foot on his knee to unlace his shoe.

Kouji pushes the propped foot aside and kneels between Takuto's legs, places his hands on Takuto's knees. "It's important to me," he says, and tries to hold Takuto's eyes, "because it is important to you."

Takuto smiles as Kouji presses kisses against his abdomen. "Silly. When did I say it was important?"

"Maybe you didn't," Kouji says, kissing lower and nibbling gently at Takuto's hip through his trousers, "but it is."

Takuto squirms and tangles his fingers in Kouji's hair. "For the record," he says, "it's not. But if you absolutely have to go tomorrow..."

Kouji rises up on his knees and grins at Takuto. The mattress gives way as he straddles his hips and presses him down to the bed. "I love you, you know."

Takuto smiles and closes his eyes. "Idiot," he whispers.

center/center

Idiot, indeed.

When Kouji wakes up in the morning, Takuto is already gone. He usually stays the whole night, but his side of the bed (as Kouji has deemed it, despite the fact that Takuto has his own bed in his own room) is cool and unrumpled in the morning sun. Kouji vaguely remembers something about the importance of an art project, but it is Valentine's Day and he was hoping he could wake up to the scent and the heat of Takuto beside him.

Still, Takuto had agreed to go to the tree. Kouji pulls himself out of bed and begins to pull on a clean uniform. He wonders as he buttons his white shirt how people go about this sort of thing. Do they ask friends to come too? Or is it a private occasion? How do they decide where to carve their names?

It all seems so complicated and Kouji has never thought of it before the last couple of days. He's never planned it. The whole tradition just seemed so garish and he'd always been sure that he'd never be doing this.

He pulls on his jacket and looks at himself in the mirror. He looks the same as he did two days earlier, but now his face seems unsure. Still, there is no room for indecision now. He shakes his head and turns to leave his room.

He's already offered; Takuto's already accepted. What's done is done and he can think of no good reason not to do this. They are in love. They have been together for years. This is what devoted couples in love at Bell Liberty do. And it is the scariest, biggest, small-thing that Kouji has ever prepared himself to go through with.

First hour is a welcomed distraction. Formulae and graphs cover the blackboard and his mind is engrossed in the task of solving problems with Shuunsuke as his partner. Shuunsuke, despite his preoccupation with being a terror on two spoked wheels, is quite the genius when it comes to differential equations and they finish before any others in their classroom.

Kouji looks dutifully over their work as Shuunsuke taunts Naruse from across the room with obnoxious facial expressions and Kouji has to admit that it is a bit amusing to see the different shades of "red" and "betrayed" taking over Naruse's face. When he's finished ensuring the correctness of their solutions, Kouji leans back in his chair.

Shuunsuke hoists himself onto his desk, his legs swinging from the edge, one shoelace dangerously untied and dangling.

"How is Takuto-san?" he asks, fang glinting in the morning sun.

Kouji's face falls. He checks the clock: only two more hours until they go out to the tree.

"He's well," he answers, more distracted now than he had been.

"Aah," Shuunsuke replies.

Kouji lets the atmosphere between them fall silent and he stares out the window. This isn't what he wanted. Again, he ticks off the reasons in his head and though he can think of no real excuse, he just knows that it doesn't feel right. It isn't ithem./i

"So," Shuunsuke says, fidgeting a bit in the uncomfortable silence. Kouji hates to admit it, but he has that effect on people somewhat frequently. "When are you and Takuto going to do the tree?"

Kouji blinks at him once before the bell rings.

Second hour is a bother. Kouji knows that he should be paying attention to the literature discussion, but the classroom is just across the grounds from the art building and he can see Takuto so clearly through the windows. He is hunched over one of the art tables, hands working furiously on what Kouji assumes is his art project. Just like the animosity he'd been feeling for Keita and Kazuki, he is beginning to hate that art project a little bit, too. Every time they get close to discussing something, Takuto makes the excuse of homework and takes off. That art project is becoming quite the convenient little excuse.

Kaoru whispers something to Omi, and Omi leans across the aisle to tell Kouji to pay attention. Kouji always pays attention! He is always the one glancing forlornly at other slacking students! This tree tradition has brought him nothing but trouble.

Kaoru jokes to Omi about Kouji being distracted by Valentine's plans and Kouji's hair bristles. Mostly because it is the truth. He shouldn't be thinking about this in class; really, shouldn't be thinking about it at all. What's to think about? It's just some names. Carved into some tree. In some long-held tradition. For all of eternity.

Kouji rests his head on his desk for a moment before declaring that he is ill and asking to be excused to the nurse's.

Third hour is torture. In retrospect, he will know that it was chemistry, but at the time he won't be sure. He's moved one classroom down the hall and now he can only see the line of Takuto's back from behind the window frame. He moves forward and back in rhythm. Kouji loves to watch him work, loves to imagine what strokes he is laying down on the canvas.

It is maddening to watch him, to watch only part of him. But it is beautiful, Takuto's red jacket thrown off to keep it clean. The folds of his shirt slide with the movements of his body and Kouji knows that this sight, this man is something that he doesn't want to lose. If all it takes is a small gesture like carving their names into a tree, then he can do it.

Right? He can. He tells himself this, answers his teacher's question automatically--something about oxidation--and returns to his musing. He can do this. It doesn't matter if he isn't completely comfortable with the idea, doesn't matter if he feels like he is selling out or laying himself bare. None of this matters because it will make Takuto happy. And it if makes Takuto happy, then it makes Kouji happy.

But it still isn't right. When did Takuto become so vocal about these quiet inner things? What happened to Kouji's gentle artist, his soft and unassuming friend? When did he become so concerned with things like artificial traditions? Kouji is sure that he is to blame, at least in part; he shouldn't have left Takuto wondering so much. Of course he says "I love you" often and fiercely, but he knows as well as anyone that words aren't always enough. Sometimes something more tangible is necessary. And he should have been paying enough attention to know the signs of discontentment.

Five minutes before the end of class, Kouji realizes that other students are staring at him. Shuunsuke is muttering to Keita behind his hand, and Naruse gives him such a warm look of sympathy that Kouji feels a flush of heat work up his cheeks. It isn't like Kouji to be spacing out in class.

Kaoru frowns at him disapprovingly and at the ringing of the bell, Niwa slaps him on the back and says, "Go get 'im, tiger."

That's it. He can't do this.

Kouji drags his books up from his desk and holds them at his hip. He'll just have to meet Takuto out there and tell him to forget the whole thing. If Takuto loves him (and he knows that he does), he'll get over it. Eventually.

center/center

When Kouji gets out to the tree, he is alone. His scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck, pulled up over his nose, and his breath condenses against his lips. He thinks hopefully for a moment that Takuto has forgotten all about their agreement, that maybe his art project kept him late. It wouldn't be implausible. A small carving knife is tucked into his pants pocket just in case.

But he isn't granted his solitude for long as he sees Takuto pushing his way past smaller trees, book bag slung over his shoulder. He smiles as he approaches and raises his hand in greeting.

"Kouji," he says and stops a few feet in front of him. His eyes are so warm and Kouji is torn inside again. He hates disappointing this man. But he has his principles.

"Takuto, I--"

Takuto laughs. "Are you still planning to go through with this?"

Kouji's face goes red and hot. "Well, actually--"

Takuto laughs again and steps forward to rest one hand on Kouji's waist. "Just, hush."

Kouji is usually very good at hushing, but he stammers for a moment. He needs to get this out. He can't keep his doubts inside anymore. But Takuto leans toward him and brushes their lips together. Maybe explanations can wait.

Takuto's mouth is so soft and inviting. Kouji remembers the first time they kissed each other silly and speechless. He remembers Takuto grabbing him on the archery range; he remembers continuing to the locker room bench, so hard beneath him as Takuto pushed him down. He remembers their first term at Bell Liberty passing in a blur of friendship and growing affection and uncertainty. He remembers the quiet way they slid into this relationship, the way Takuto never leaves his side. Kouji knows that he has to tell him.

He pushes Takuto away gently, still holding onto his shoulder. Takuto looks at him, cheeks pink, lips swollen. But Kouji knows he'll understand.

"Look," he says, "this...I don't know if I can."

And the most extraordinary thing happens. Takuto stares at him for a moment, then laugher breaks from his mouth. He laughs so hard that he has to lean forward to support himself on his knees. It is all very flamboyant for him, Kouji thinks.

He catches his breath after a moment and looks at Kouji with eyes still wavering with mirth. "Did you really think I wanted this?" he asks, voice soft as always, "I'm sorry if I made you think that."

Kouji lowers himself to sit against the tree. He can't help but be confused over Takuto's reaction. "But you brought it up," he says, "you called it romantic."

Takuto sits beside him and rests his bag on his legs. "It iis/i romantic--for people who are into this sort of thing. Keita and Kazuki are."

Kouji sighs. "I suppose."

He feels Takuto's fingers against his jaw, turning his head to the side. "And," Takuto says when he can see Kouji's eyes, "I'm not. I don't need some public declaration to know you care about me. You should know that."

Kouji blushes and turns away. He's been such an idiot.

"And I think you do know," Takuto assures him, resting his forehead against Kouji's temple.

"I do," he whispers, "of course I do."

"Then quit underestimating me," Takuto says with a grin and kisses him again, "I'll tell you if I want something."

Before Kouji can respond, Takuto begins to unzip his book bag.

"I have something for you," he says.

Kouji leans his head back against the tree. "Don't," he says, "I already feel like enough of a jerk for dragging you out here."

"You're being silly again," he says, "and I've been working on this all week. Don't tell me 'don't.'"

What he extracts from his bag is a small, tissue-wrapped object. He hands it to Kouji and Kouji feels his hand dip with its weight.

"It's not as impressive as it feels," Takuto says and glances away, "and it's not my usual medium, either."

This gets Kouji excited. Medium? This is artwork? This is Takuto's artwork--that he's not only sharing, but igiving?/i He pulls the paper off neatly--an act that requires great restraint--and sets it on his lap.

The object inside... He feels his throat become tight. In his hands is a small block of wood. The wood-cut bears their names surrounded by an intricate, lacy heart--complete with an arrow shot through.

"I couldn't leave out the arrow," Takuto tells him, soft smile on his lips.

It is beautiful and discomposes Kouji a bit more than he would like.

"I hope it's okay," Takuto says, "after I heard about Keita and Kazuki, I wanted to do something for you. Carving our names in the tree didn't seem right. I wanted something just for us."

Kouji doesn't trust himself to say anything more than, "Thank you," and even that is a bit betraying of his vulnerability at the moment. But Takuto graciously lets him recover by pulling him down to the ground and kissing him. Kouji loves them just like this: together in solitude, quiet and close, warmth pressed between them. He loves the comfort; he loves that they never fought over this silly thing. He loves that Takuto's hands fit just so over his hips. This is good.

Kouji will never ink the stone-cut. He will leave it exactly as it is and let it rest on the small nightstand on his side of the bed. Takuto will urge him to ink it, will tell him about tradition that dictates wood- and stone-cuts are to be inked a particular number of times, then destroyed. But Kouji will deny him.

Tradition has gotten them in enough trouble already. 


End file.
